Servant's Servant
by Cr8zeCorbinFangirl
Summary: Ciel is taken from the sweathouse he's been thrown into ever since his parents' deaths. But from one hell, he steps into another - servant to 20-yr-old Riff Raffit. Please RnR. I own nothing. M FOR RAPE.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

When Ciel learned he was being bought with what was left of the Raffit fortune, he wondered if this was even true. He didn't even know who this 'Mr. Raffit' was, or even more, that he could be bought in the first place. If he could, wouldn't Elizabeth buy him already? She was in love with him, wasn't she?

"Get your ass up, you useless brat." The overseer wrenched his over-bruised arm out its socket. He bit his tongue till he drew blood, getting to his feet as quickly as he good. Apparently, he wasn't as fast as the overseer wanted him to be, earning a rough shove to his new master's feet and the all-too-familiar rustle that was the whip.

"Mr. Pointing, I think that is quite enough. I would like him as unmarked as he can be, even more so if I can prevent it." The man's voice was gentle and his touch just the same. So as he got to his feet at the man's side, Ciel tried not to tremble; it had been 7 long years since a human's touch had been _gentle._

"Feh." The overseer turned to the other abused children and teenagers, lighting a cigar that would continue to kill his lungs. Not to mention those unfortunate to be beside him.

"Come, Ciel, let us take our leave, shall we?" The man turned him about by his good shoulder.

He couldn't believe it. He was finally leaving that horrible workhouse. He almost wanted to smile.

Almost. But one look at the man – his new _master_ – held back every emotion. Just like humans had done to him for the past 7 years.

Mr. Raffit led him to an automotive car, holding the door to the backseat for him open. Ciel looked at him apprehensively for a moment, stepping in and watching the man through the glass as he returned to the warehouse. _Probably to get another whip for his collection._ He thought bitterly.

The ride didn't take long and Ciel had almost nodded off from the gentle bumps. He focused on the pain thumping across his body to stay awake.

They stopped back in London before an upscale in-city apartment. Mr. Raffit opened his door once more, hand out to help the 12-year-old to step upon the street. Just for a moment, Ciel looked at how the scene appeared. Mr. Raffit's long fingers curled around his small hand. It just seemed…perfect. He, somehow, moved his gaze up to Mr. Raffit's eye – blue eyes that looked…warm. He gulped, hiding in the ground his blush. The man gave a small chuckle, helping him down.

He kept his distance behind Ciel, reaching forward to open doors and limiting speech to directions.

"I've rented this apartment until Monday." Mr. Raffit explained as he shuffled Ciel along. "Then we will move on." He pulled back the sheets of the makeshift bed that sat in the center of the white apartment. Ciel, hesitantly, sat down.

Ciel didn't know, but he looked at the man with wide, innocent eyes as the elder removed his shoes. Mr. Raffit, however, knew that his warm smile hadn't left his face – the one that caused the blush on Ciel's face to deepen.

Mr. Raffit pushed his legs under the blanket and Ciel slowly laid against the mattress. "Go to sleep, Ciel. We will talk in the morning." He stood, drawing close the curtains. The baron apartment was enshrouded in darkness. Ciel suppressed a shiver.

Mr. Raffit opened the door to a bedroom, turning back around at the last second, "Oh, and Ciel, feel free to wake me if you get cold."

Ciel gulped and nodded. One last warm smile, Mr. Raffit inclined his head and vanished behind the maple wood door.

Ciel let out a heavy breath, burying himself under the wool blanket, trying to believe that he was shivering under the warmth. This man was too nice, too kind. It was unbelievable.

He was probably expected to work early tomorrow. He should get to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

When Ciel woke, the sun was at high noon and the morning birds were chirping the lunch song. He turned his head and saw Mr. Raffit with his back to him, kneeling at the side of his bed. He slowly sat up, eyes once gain wide with innocent curiousity.

Mr. Raffit turned back around with a shock expression. "Oh, you're awake?" He placed a rag he held down in his wash bin, picking up a small teacup filled with a sweet apple-smelling liquid. "Drink this. It'll numb the pain." Ciel nodded, drinking the sweet taste down. Mr. Raffit chuckled, mumbling to make more as he wetted the wash cloth. He took Ciel's hand, showing the calluses and scars for the sun to sparkle upon. He patted the cloth against his palm and Ciel let out a hiss, stiffening, almost pulling away. But Mr. Raffit kept his grip, touching more gingerly and the pain slowly did ebb away. Ciel looked down at his other hand – it was already bandaged. Pulling back the blanket, he found he had no shirt and his britches had been cut away from the knee down, legs and feet bandaged as well.

"I took the liberty of cleaning you up while you slept." Ciel nodded absently. The other man laughed. "You slept like the day. It's already almost 1 o'clock. I debated whether to set your shoulder, but I have not just yet."

"Thank you…Master." His scratchy, gravel-filled voice hurt, even with the help of the narcotic drink.

Mr. Raffit laughed, standing to put his cleanser and cloth away for some more bandage. "Please, Ciel. I did not take you from that place for you to serve. Now, what is your name?"

Ciel, confusedly, answered hesitantly. "Ciel, sir."

He laughed again. "Yes, I know, otherwise why would I call you such? What is your surname?"

Ciel was surprised. Nobody asked him about his past before the workhouse. He blushed, looking into his lap. "Ph…Phantomhive, sir."

"Phantomhive, huh? I believe your fortune is yet to be claimed. Maybe we can call it back." Mr. Raffit opened the shutters, throwing the cleanser to the streets of London. He walked back to him, hands gingerly wrapping the strips to his palm. "I am your servant, Ciel, not the other way around. Remember that." Ciel gulped, nodding as a sign he understood. "My name is Riff. Feel free to call me as such." Ciel nodded again and Riff chuckled, looking up with that warm look. "I know you can talk, Ciel. You can speak freely."

"Yes…Riff." His voice, still scratchy, hurt his ears as he squeaked.

Riff smiled, ruffling his hair in an affectionate little way as he stood. "Now…shall we fix you arm? I wouldn't want my new _master _to have an un-needed hump." The word 'master' sent chills up Ciel's spine.

"Are…" Ciel cleared his throat, "are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Riff handed him another cup of his healing tea. He spoke as the younger one drank. "Quite. I have studied medicine for the past eight years." Ciel nodded, handing back the cup. "All done?" Ciel gave no response, on the verge of a hazy blackout.

Riff gently picked up Ciel's dead weight of an arm, pulling it behind him. "I'm going to push your arm up on the count of three, alright." Ciel bobbed his head up and down, eyes drooping down. "1…2…3."

Ciel tensed as the series of cracks set off, echoing in the apartment. But, there was no need – he couldn't feel a thing.

Riff, just as gently as before, placed his arm down. "Are you alright, Ciel?" He looked in the boy's navy eyes.

Ciel nodded. "I just…I didn't…I'm fine." Riff smiled once more, petting the little one's head.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

They left London for Phantomhive Manor on Monday, giving Ciel time to relax under Riff's careful eyes. He still squirmed when he knew the 20-year-old was watching him, but he didn't blush anymore. Not from the warm smiles or from the gentle touches as Riff changed his bandages.

Riff had taken him for a walk on Sunday morning, him on crutches and Riff behind him. They shopped for new clothes befitting of the head of the Estate. Ciel played nonchalant, though he couldn't be any happier. He had spent Saturday tussled in his blanket, his shirt now on his hands and what was left of his leggings were beyond help with all the sweat and blood that had soiled them. On that Sunday morning, he was under Riff's coat, both for warmth and dignity.

Riff had picked out many clothes from his new wardrobe, but the ones Ciel favored were the suspenders, dress shirts and blue blazers. Maybe it was his eyes, but blues had always been his favorite colors. "We must wait for your soles to heel. Then we shall measure you shoes." Riff had said as they left a store. Ciel didn't care, but couldn't wait.

In his spare time, Ciel sorted through his blocked memories for what Phantomhive Manor looked like. All it led to were bad thoughts, trembles of the body, and embarrassing falls off his crutch. Not to mention more touches from his…servant.

They clambered into the car and almost immediately, after Riff's suggestion, he fell back asleep. He felt himself dream of void nothingness, of faraway faces that he could almost not remember. Apparently, his outward appearance was anything but void. As they arrived, Riff had truly rushed to his door and open it, letting the new air greet his master. "Ciel, wake up."

He took a breath and looked lazily at the leather interior of the vehicle. He slowly looked over at Riff, almost feeling a compulsion to bury himself in the elder man's embrace. But Riff was a respectable man and he wasn't exactly a childish boy.

Riff smiled and offered his hand to Ciel. The young boy trusted forth his crutch and placed his hand within Riff's. He tried to keep his eyes from admiring the sigh of their differently sized hands.

The manor was breath-taking in its simplicity. The gray stones held no scorch marks as he thought they would have, not could he see any damage the fir of long ago may have caused. He was slow to follow Riff and his servant waited patiently for him with the door open.

The inside had been just as amazing. The walls were covered with deep blue velvet, paintings hanging all over the place. Grand staircases lead to both sides. A ballroom to his left, a grand room to his right. And he knew there were more to his home than what the eyes saw.

He looked behind him. Riff stared straight ahead to the stairs. He sighed. Riff was a bit quieter than he had been that Saturday afternoon. He said he would soon stop doing things on his own – attempt to coach Ciel into giving him orders. Something the new master truly didn't like to do. Not after years of seeing what orders could do to a person.

"Draw me a bath, warm, not hot. Help me and then dress my wounds. I would like to sleep after that." His voice still held a tint of gravel, but was not as course as their first conversation.

"Yes, sir." Riff bowed his head, walking in long strides up the staircase to the left.

His room. How long had it been since he was there. How long had he been there? 2, maybe 3 years? Just to have it all taken away.

It had taken him quite the hobble up the stairs, made longer as he stopped at every painting to retell the story of how it had been made to himself. Such as his grandparents' portrait, when his grandfather had almost drooled from the boredom. Or Elizabeth's painting, when she refused to sit still knowing that he was only on the other side of the door. Even his parents, when his mother – his beautiful mother – had let the painter immortalize him in her belly.

Right before his door, he stopped to stare at himself. Only 5-years-old, the purity he once held shone through ever stroke. Hesitantly, he reached his hand to touch the once sparkling sapphire eyes. _I had so much color back then_.

The door opened and Ciel jumped, looking at Riff in the doorway. The blond gave him that warm smile. "The bath is ready, sir."

The room was just like his memories. The dark hardwood floor blended with the deep navy blues of the curtains. He hobbled to his bed, hands shakily petting over the sapphire blanket.

"I came when you were sleeping last night to make things ready." Riff explained. "Shall you?"

Ciel nodded, leaning against the bed post. He propped the crutch up against it, taking his sweet time to join Riff in the bathroom.

Just like when he was asleep, Riff was careful as he removed the blazer. He unsnapped the suspenders, minding Ciel's still healing shoulder with the utmost caution. Ciel moved only when prompted; face empty of all expression – a skill mastered over his years at the workhouse.

The water was warm and calming, just as Ciel ordered. For a moment, he relaxed and Riff let him. So slowly, he tipped his master's head just the slightest forward, taking a cloth to swipe against his neck. Ciel hissed as the silver-haired man passed an old bruise. "Not so hard, you butterfingers."

Riff stiffed for a moment, letting out a melodic laugh. Ciel turned in the water, cheeks flushed. "Yes sir." He turned Ciel back around in a somewhat teasing manner.

Ciel complimented himself in not trembling under Riff's amble fingers. Wistfully, he brought up his palm and undid the damp strips. He gulped, eyes staring at the red, red scars marred in his palm.

"Does it hurt, Ciel?" He jumped, the water sloshing out. He turned back around to Riff's curious blue eyes. He turned back around once more, hands shoved back under the water. "No, no. I'm fine."

"In that case, would you care to wash your arms as I removed your leg-wrappings?" He held the cloth out. Ciel grabbed it in a tight jerk, trying to hide his red cheeks. Riff smiled, rounding the tub. He lifted out Ciel's legs, resting them on the curves of the porcelain. Ciel hissed, sinking deeper into the water and busying himself with rubbing aloe across his collar.

He made a sort of habit of shivering whenever he saw Riff hold those scissors. This time was no different and he clutched the cloth close, unknowingly pushing dirty clumps of aloe into his open palm wounds. He jerked and hissed, almost not hearing Riff cuss aloud. "Stay still, Ciel. You're lucky I only cut quicker, not deeper." Ciel nodded an apology.

His swollen ankle seemed much better and as Riff massaged it, _he_ felt much better – much to the cringe of Ciel and amusement of Riff. With another aloe, he massaged it along the wounds, repeating across the other leg before both were placed back in the soothing water. Ciel let out a withheld breath, bringing his knees to his chest. This man was too kind, but he was too tired of his old life to care.

Riff left and returned with a robe in hand that made Ciel quake. The outside was smooth silk, the inside holding the warmest sheep-fleece. He wanted then and there to drop to his knees and thank him for everything. But Riff's number one rule was he was a servant – it was his job.

He held to Riff's arm as he hopped back to the bed. The covers were drawn and he slid in, eyes unknowingly innocent as they watched Riff above. "I shall wash your clothes while you sleep." Riff said. Ciel nodded. "Yes, keep yourself busy." Riff gave him another smile and left.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The sunlight warmed his cheeks and he slowly opened his eyes. Riff turned around, framed by the window. "Good Morning; it time to awaken."

Ciel groaned and sat up. He rubbed at his eyes and yawned. "It's still early. Why am I up?"

Riff removed himself from the sunlight's path, placing a tray of eggs and milk on his master's lap. "There are many pieces of paperwork that require your attention if we are to re-open Funtom factory and regain your fortune." Ciel nodded, not truly listening as he ate. "Will you need help to your study?"

This caught Ciel's attention and he looked up in shock. "My study? Do you mean…" The only study was…his father's. His breath hitched and unconsciously, he looked back at his bandaged hands.

"Is something wrong?" Riff inquired.

"Nothing. Have you set out my clothes?" Riff nodded, gesturing to the outfit set beside him. Ciel sighed, but left his bed nonetheless.

"You never answered my question, sir. Are you alright to walk to your study?" Riff repeated as he helped the shirt over Ciel's shoulders.

"If there is a hurry, yes." Ciel snarled, pushing his arms through. He buttoned his cuffs as Riff fixed the centerline.

"Then I shall find my own work to occupy me." Riff joked with that smile, holding out the vest for his lord to take.

Though he walked on his own, Riff dawdled behind him till the arrived at the parted staircase. The elder didn't miss a beat, making towards the ballroom to the kitchen. Ciel let out a breath, stepping his bad foot forward to the left wing.

The study, cast in a deep red; where it had all started. His father's scream, the one that alerted his mother and him, had unknowing made the fire spread. And now, it was perfectly scorch-free. _How much time did Riff have on his hands?_

The walk to the desk was long, each step taken with hesitance that the hated fire would spring back to life. His hand passed over the mahogany desk, the top drawer slightly ajar as it always had been. Careful white hands pulled it open and thin fingers stroked the sole content.

His father's pocket watch, the sapphire stone set in the cover and the lapis lazuli set in the face. The Phantom Watch, he called it. It was the one thing that Ciel had looked forward to owning when he turned…12. His heart fluttered. Was this all his parents' doing? Was Riff truly an angel sent to him to receive this present?

No. If God existed, he wouldn't even need an angel. His _father_ could give it to him, just like he was suppose to. Ciel shook his head. He took the watch, hooking and placing it in his pocket. He looked about the study, looking at the ceiling. "Thank you, Father." He murmured.

He leaned into the leather chair, feeling too small for such a large chair – too small for such a large position. Before him were the papers Riff must've meant, all waiting for his signature.

Signatures, right.

An hour had passed and not one document was signed. He found extra paper and tried his hardest to filter through the memories on how to write. The first few attempts faltered as his mind blanked on the 'r' or the 'z' and then him berating himself for forgetting that there wasn't even an 'r' or 'z' in his name at all.

"Ciel, I have brought – have you not started on the paperwork?" Ciel jumped from sleep as Riff entered with a tray of apple slices and tea. His mouth watered and he threw away any façade of professionalism.

Riff stood behind him as Ciel ate. He examined the boy's penmanship with scrutiny. The young Earl-to-be did have the ability but…"How old were you when you're parents died?" He blurted, forgetting for a moment his place.

Ciel hesitantly bit down on a slice. "Fi-five, Riff. No more than five." His voice, suddenly free of gravel, held the smoothness of ice.

"I see. You couldn't have been any further than your name and the alphabet, am I correct?" Ciel nodded, pushing away the small lunch. He was full.

Riff took away the platter and set it aside. He then leaned forward, quick hands creating a plain name. "Attempt to copy this if you are still in frustration. We will need to school you if you are to become an Earl." Riff's voice was stern, but held gentleness still. "I will go to town today and find a tutor."

"Or you could tutor me." Ciel spoke quickly, eyes downcast on the beautiful manuscript. With determined hands and an out-stuck tongue, he attempted copying.

Riff watched with his smile, taken by heart with the young master. "Well then…may I offer my assistance to my student?"

Ciel froze as Riff's hand covered his own. With just that much force, Ciel's and Riff's conjoined hands wrote out his name, looking as splendid as Riff's hand had been. "Write like this, move you're hand like this, and your hand will be envied by all of London." Ciel nodded, fighting a losing battle with his blood.

"Thank you, Riff. That shall be all." He pried away from the butler's grasp and picked up the first sheet of work. He skimmed over it, quietly waiting for the man to leave.

As he signed, he noticed the curves were still just a bit jagged. Oh well, it was a start.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

The start went far and soon enough, Ciel's hand had surpassed his father's. The stock of crisp white sheets did not look as menacing now.

His butler was a different story. One he did not care to discuss.

In an effort to distract his racing heart, he focused on close to home – Funtom. Riff claimed they would be able to employ by month's end. He set out writing letters to any businessman he could remember and any toymakers he had ever heard of, mentioning quite often his father's name.

Riff took the letters without question, a smile always in his blue eyes. In a slow moment, he turned to the door, almost knowing of his master's hesitance.

"Riff," He called. From the windows, Ciel looked back at his desk. In a moment's notice, he opened the drawer and trusted a crisp white letter to his servant. "Go to London. Search out for my cousin, Elizabeth. Tell her that I want to see her." His voice was monotone, eyes betraying him with sadness. Riff saw a flash of when the overseer had reached for his whip.

He took the letter in careful hands, placing it away. He watched the 12-year-old stare out the window like an old man on Death's porch. He placed the proposals on the mahogany wood, walking about for a face-to-face conversation. He held out an open-gloved hand. "You need a recess. Come to the garden."

Ciel looked at him with surprisingly cold eyes that shocked Riff. Fortunately, they weren't truly cold, but only tired. "I still have work to do." Ciel swiveled back to the said 'work.'

Riff rounded the desk once more, not giving up. "It can be held off for at least an hour or two." Ciel picked another proposal. Riff tried again. "Ciel, humor me. Take a walk in the garden.

Ciel looked up and almost laughed. He could almost see the man on his knees, begging like a puppy for a bone. He sighed and placed down his pen, hand slipping into Riff's to the garden. Not once did he notice their size difference, something he prided himself on.

The doors – polished, scrubbed, and painted white – opened and Ciel let out a gasp. The garden was lush green with a running fountain glistening in the center. Irises and Daisies and Jonquils and a million other flowers sparkled in the bright sunlight. "I have been caring for it here and there since I have served you. I hope you do not mind, sir." Riff interrupted Ciel's admiring. Somehow, Ciel saw through it – Riff was searching for praise.

"It is…beautiful, Riff." The word sounded heavy on his tongue. Such a lovely meaning didn't seem right after the life he'd lead. "But…you do too much. Take some time for your own recess." Riff chuckled and bowed slightly. "Yes sir."

They walked and Ciel thought the paved path he walked on was a cloud, his head a hazy fog of gorgeous perfumes. His fingers passed many flowers, feeling their velvety petals under his fingers. _Things are just too perfect._


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Ciel munched on a parfait in a content mood, watching as Riff made his lunch. The paperwork of the past four days had been finished earlier that day and he had very little else to do besides exploring the manor, remembering old nightmares, waltzing about the gardens, and/or picturing what lay in ruins behind those bricks. Needless to say, that all had taken no less than half an hour.

Riff gave a deep hiss and Ciel jumped away from _that_ daydream. Something silver clattered to the floor, but all the little on was red.

"Clumsy me; scared by a bird." Riff chortled, holding his hand in his apron. He looked at his master with that smile, one that faltered as he recognized when and where he was. "It's alright, sir. It's not that deep."

Ciel swallowed over a number of lumps in his throat. Shakily, he raised his hand. The gravel dribbled from his throat. "Le-le-luh-let me see…please."

Riff nodded, unraveling his hand. He noticed quickly how Ciel's hand pulled back and looked down. Against the white of the apron, bright red and orange stained in large splotches. He quickly turned, undoing his apron, placing it in on the separate counter before giving his hand back for inspection.

Ciel gave a deep breath and held the man's calloused palm in his tiny hands. The cut was still beading out blood, threatening to spill over in any second. He felt something stir in the pit of his stomach.

"Y'know, this could a good learning opportunity for you." Riff spoke in a voice he now knew as his tutor side. The blond took back his hand, disappearing to some corner or another. Ciel wondered at what 'learning opportunity' his butler could think up from a cut on his hand.

He answered when Riff returned with a sewing kit, aloe, and water and soap. It was quick for Ciel to get 3 from 1 and 2. He was stitching the wound.

He wanted to say no, run up to his room, and hide away from the blood. But he was 12. He wasn't a child. He gulped, controlling every urge that said to run away.

He obeyed every word that Riff instructed to clean. It was all so easy and he almost relaxed. That was, until Riff pulled out a red hot poker and handed it to him.

"Wha-what am I doing with this?"

"Place it on the would. It will stop the bleeding and seal it, somewhat."

Ciel's voice stuttered and his hands trembled. By chance, the burning metal touched Riff's fingers. The man hissed, but kept his warm smile. "Careful." He jested.

"Suh…sorry." Ciel stuttered. He steadied his hand and placed the burning metal against Riff's palm. The man gasped, but never let his smile faltered.

"Good, good Ciel." With his free hand, Riff took the poker from his master's hand, replacing it with a threaded needle. "Now, close it."

With even more quivering hands, Ciel took the sliver of rounded metal. "Wha-where do I start?"

Riff's other hand took hold of Ciel's, guiding the needle to the skin. "Pinch it together for an easier trial." He instructed. Ciel nodded, tongue too dry to speak.

It was over too soon and too quick and Riff cut the needle's thread, tying the ends together.

At least, he would be tying them together if Ciel's arms didn't wind themselves around his neck. "Uh…Ciel?"

"Di-din…aren't you…didn't it hurt?" Ciel stumbled out.

Riff was silent for a second, chuckling and hugging his master with his free hand. "Don't worry, Ciel. I've dealt with…worse."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Apparently, there was even more paperwork to be had as Funtom opened. The approval of the toymakers' presentations, the resumes of the new employees, the lease of the factory, and all the written to toy stores bored Ciel to no extent.

"Sir, your lunch is ready." Riff's voice kindly came through the door. Ciel held in a bright smile, thankful to put down the pen.

Riff walked in, a tray of tea, parfaits, and melons in his hands. It wasn't too long till Ciel was digging in.

In a quick eye, Ciel saw the corner of an envelope. In a spark of hope, he sat straight. "Is that a reply from Elizabeth?"

Riff looked in his waistcoat, a solemn look on his face. "Sir..." He retrieved the letter it quickly. "I regret to tell you this, but it seems that Miss Elizabeth has passed on as of five years ago."

The fork dropped from his hands. "What?"

From the letter, Riff pulled out the gray slip of paper, handing it to the boy. Ciel trembled as he read. He knew what this was – Death Certificate.

_Miss Elizabeth Middleford_

_Cause of Death – Pneumonia_

_March 19__th__, 1895_

It fell from his hands, head replacing it. Sharp needles pricked at his eyes that he dare not let drop.

Riff took one of his hands, turning it idly about. "Perhaps it is time that we remove these bandages. A bath should help as well." He pulled the young master along to his quarters. Like a doll, Ciel obeyed every prodding. Riff undressed him and placed his limp body in steaming water. He absently looked down at his open hands, not truly seeing them, but the little ones that use to hold them.

"_Ciel, let's go play! Uncle Vincent made me some new dollies!" Elizabeth screeched, grabbing hold on her cousin's reluctant hand and dragging him to the playroom._

The memory washed away into the water as Riff's hand covered his own. In a surprise moment, his palm was brought to Riff's warm lips, a kiss placed against his knuckled. He blushed, but didn't pull away.

Riff returned the hand and occupied his own hands with a sunshine-orange bottle of lotion, smothering it against his palms. Ever so tentatively, he smothered that against Ciel's shoulders.

The young boy tensed, goosebumps all across his naked skin. Goosebumps that melted together in his throat for a long string of moans that let loose as talented but her thumbs pushed on spots Ciel barely knew existed. His eyes dripped close and he enjoyed ever dip and prod of Riff's hands, trying to imprint them into memory. As the older man pushed a particular knot in his spin, his entire spine arched and Ciel's head lolled to Riff's chest.

"I love you."

Time froze. The heavenly euphoria ceased and Ciel crashed back to reality. He retreated from his butler, eyes wide in anticipating fear. Maybe it was Elizabeth's death, maybe the kiss on the hand. Maybe even the combination of everything of the past month.

And yet, Riff smiled back at him with the warmest warmth Ciel had ever seen portrayed in a smile. He leaned close and kissed Ciel's forehead. "I love you, too."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

It had all seemed a dream, those three nights ago. But it wasn't and Riff went about proving it every day.

Ciel thought his favorite proof was the hear-shaped parfait he had gotten for dinner.

He barely registered the soft touch against his cheek, at least not until the voice accompanied it. "So perfect."

He rubbed at his sleepy eyes – he no longer cared if he seemed childish. "Riff?"

"Shh…Ciel. Don't get up." A finger placed against his lips and the silver-haired man came close, face shining in the moonlight. The bed dipped with his added weight. He came closer, and closer, until his lips touched against Ciel's.

Ciel pulled away immediately, hiding in the shadows. Riff had never kissed him. He trembled, touching those quivering lips. He gulped, digging up gravel. "Ri-Riff, I'm tired. Please, let me sleep." He pushed himself under the covers, waiting for his butler to leave.

He didn't, grabbing Ciel's arm and pulling him back into the moonlight. "Why not we sleep together?" The voice was drooling with something all too familiar to Ciel that he could not place. The older man leaned close, daring to steal another kiss.

Ciel turned his head, wrestling the wrist from the man's grip. "Riff, please, I want to go to sleep."

There was laughter, dark and menacing. Before he could respond, both arms were grabbed and his back hit against the mattress painfully. The moonlight shone in just the right angle, highlighting a madman's glint in Riff's blue eyes. "Don't you get it by now? Riff's not here anymore." Those lips came to his ear. "Ael's here to play."

Ciel's own blue eyes went wide and he bucked against this…this Ael. He chuckled, transferring the boy's wrists to one hand, the other trailing along Ciel's nightshirt. "Now, Darling, just you wait, I'll get to that soon enough."

"What have you done with Riff?" He spat out.

Ael chuckled. "Ooh, little boy's all worked up about witty littly Riffy, is he?" The chuckled conjured a twisted smile. "Don't worry, Ciel-y, he's here, somewhere, yes he is. He's here, watching and wishing he could join the fun. And he will, oh yes, he will."

Too deep in trying to decode the crazy male's words, Ciel barely noticed as he lay naked before Ael. He closed into himself, struggling for freedom. There was only more laughter and a hand that held down his hips. He glared up with hateful eyes. "I demand you leave my house or I will call the police."

The same glare came from Ael's spiteful eyes. He raised a fist and drove it deep in Ciel's eye, content as he saw the tears and heard the scream. "Stupid idiot. Are you thick?" He grabbed Ciel by the shirt, bringing him disgustingly close. "You don't own me." Ael gave Ciel a once-over, that evil smile back in place. "I own you." He shoved his tongue down Ciel's throat.

Ciel pulled away from the kiss and found, like magic, a chain connecting to a collar and shackles about his wrists. His eyes widened in greater fear, looking up at that damnéd smile. The man took the chain, looping the metal links around a hook somewhere in the headboard. Ciel yanked his hands down from above him with little avail.

His breath came heavy and he looked at the body of his so-called lover and offender. Who was who confused Ciel and so, he trembled. Shaking ever more so as his eyes rested on Ael's lower body. 2 and 3 came together.

He kicked at Ael's stomach and thighs, struggling even tighter against the chains. Ael groaned, giving the links a sharp tug. Ciel choked, coughing in the much-needed air. Another groan later, his legs were painfully forced aside and Ciel screamed as he was entered.

Ael smiled brighter, pulling out the way to his tip – always give them hope it's over – and shoved back in, moaning in the scream. Ciel trembled beneath his touch, tears bathing his perfect face. He pulled out and shoved back in, quickening in pace.

Ciel screamed, arching in vain attempts to get away from the insanity. He screamed from the third entry, not doubting the dampness down his backside was blood. He was split, body two meat bags.

Ael leaned close, slowing the painful torture. "Do you want to die, Ciel-y?" In a sob, Ciel turned into his pillow – he didn't want to look in those cruel eyes – and nodded. Ael chuckled; tongue so rough trailing the long line of sweat and blood up his neck. "Don't worry, little Darling. We'll kill you soon enough, yes we will." A swift tug of the chains; Ciel withered.

"He…he…he…" Ciel wheezed, "Riff won't let you."

"Oh, yes he will. Riffy-boy will let me." The pace quickened. "We kill our parents, he and me. All the ever did was love us and we burned them, burned them to the ground, we did. They scream and scream to ash, yes we did."

Ciel sobbed harder, head tossing from side to side. "You're lying. You're lying."

"Then what money did we buy you with, eh?" Another bruising tug. "What money did all this happen with, huh? Their money, huh. Just like a pleasure-lady, you are. Just like, bought with all that money. Dead people's money, little lady."

The pace quickened, maddening, and the chains pinched bruises and fresh wounds in his skin. Ael's tongue licked from his navel to his throat, laughter shaking Ciel more and more. "Don't worry, Darling. We'll burn you up, just like we did them. Just like your parents, we'll burn you. Up like fire, don't you Ciel-y?" Ciel shook his head, sobbing out 'No's.'

Ael released, white and red spilling out the little boy in buckets, intensifying Ciel's curling screams. Ael pulled out, leaning closer to the legs. Ciel sobbed and withered, trying to close his legs, trying to get away from the madman. He gasped as _that_ tongue – cruel and rough – licked and slobbered against his thighs.

Ael looked up; his face breathing down on Ciel's tears. His lips clamped down on his own, forcing Ciel to taste him. More bruises covered his neck as, like a tie, Ael swung the collar.

He pulled away, climbing off the bed. "Clean yourself up, Ciel. Wouldn't want Earl Phantomhive to look like a little child, do we?" There was a deeper laughter as Ael pulled the covers back about the boy. He kissed Ciel's cheek, eyes shining in the moonlight. "Good Night."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

The door shoved open and Riff gathered Ciel in his arms, a million apologies falling down his lips. Ciel, like a rag doll, sat there with dreary eyes.

"Don't. Touch. Me." His small voice echoed in his chest. Riff looked down, face in confusion. Angered, fury rose to give him strength and he pushed away. "Don't touch me so freely!" Ciel screamed.

Riff looked at him for how he was. His lower half was deformed in red and white. A pretty necklace of purples and sick yellows stained with matching bracelets. Not to mention those same colors kept his left eye shut. "Ciel…I."

"Leave me be Riff…Ael…whoever you are. Please." Ciel's voice was small, trembling with that unmissed roughness. His even smaller body bundled in the soiled sheets, back to Riff.

Hesitantly, Riff scooted closer, hand making a slow journey to touch his master's back. "Ciel, please, let me – "

Ciel flinched, curling deeper into his chest. "Please, just leave." He shuddered. "I beg of you…Master."

Riff knew he wouldn't get any further – or maybe it was the fact the boy called him 'master' – so turned back to the door.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

For four days, Ciel withered away in his bed, not moving from those soiled endings. The curtains drawn close, he bathed in the darkness that had always been an old friend.

Riff walked in on bare feet, making no noise the boy could notice. A tray of the freshest melons, lightly cinnamon-ed apple slices, and the sweetest narcotic honey tea he could make upon it. He placed it upon the night table, eyes staring down at the pain-filled face in the ruined bed. His hand caressed the blue hair in the lightest touch.

Ciel moaned and Riff scurried away, stopping only to open the curtains. And still, the door was closed before Ciel awoke completely.

Ciel opened his eyes, blinking in the bright light. The beautiful aroma of _food_ graced his nose. His eyes looked at the tray and his mouth watered. So slowly, he grabbed one slice and munched on it. His stomach flipped in joy and he grabbed another one and another one. The tea slid down his throat in two gulps and the melon followed quickly behind.

Only at the end did he notice the white card. _Please, let me explain._

He pushed open the door, causing Riff to jump, standing with his nightshirt poorly buttoned. "Explain."

"You haven't said anything. I will leave if you don't start talking in the next fifteen seconds." Ciel snapped, rubbing at his temple in the warm bath.

Riff almost chuckled, if this was a funny topic to laugh about. Plus, he would only be wasting time. "Give me a moment to know where to start, please?"

"How about what you did to me? Who is Ael? Why not start there?"

Riff swallowed a lump. "My name is Riffael. When I was younger, I was diagnosed with a split personality. The man you see before you now is Riff. That…thing from then is Ael." He reached behind him, a long strip of blackened cloth hanging loosely in his grasp. As he wrapped it about his head, Ciel jumped away. "To heal your eye, it'll have to be hidden away from light. I have to put this on." Ciel groaned, but let Riff continue without protest.

"Why me?"

"I wish I knew. He's been pushing against me ever since I…"

"Bought me. Say it. I'm not but your slave."

Riff slammed his first against the bath. "You are _not_ my servant. You never _will be_ my servant. For Ael to say that…his is insane, mentally ill. If he didn't exist, I'd be happy." The words snaked through clenched teeth, first tightening with every syllable.

Ciel pulled his knees to his chest, fear bubbling in his chest, eyes never leaving Riff's fist. "Tha-that wasn't what I meant." He gulped, changing his voice to what it had been. "Why did you buy me? There were plenty of other children. Why were you even there to begin with?"

"My previous master sent me to London after…his death, which I am partly responsible for." Riff bowed his head in a moment of silence and Ciel did so as well. "Just…you could say 'love at first sight' I suppose. I just wanted to take you from that place, restore you to your proper place."

Ciel pulled in tighter to himself. "I think I am done." He mumbled.

Riff nodded, grabbing a towel and wrapping Ciel into it. To his great joy, as he held Ciel, the younger laid his head against his chest.

"And your parents? What about them?" Ciel asked, eyes now slipping from cold to innocent.

"I barely remember the fire. Ael said they wanted to hurt me, take me away from medical school. I'm not sure myself." Ciel believed him; in Riff's eyes, he saw regret and sadness.

He sat on the edge of the bed, staring up at the silver-haired man who stared back. In a quick motion, a shiny gold key was shoved in his face. "Here, your key. Take it, hide it, and don't ever tell me where it is." Ciel took the key, looking up in question. "Lock your door at ni – no, all the time. Everything I know, Ael knows. Even if he tried to break down the door, at least you would have a head start."

Ciel nodded, slowly processing the information. He buried under the blanket, getting goosebumps as he found them warm and not the coldness of the past nights. He waved a hand, sleeping into sleep. Riff pursed his lips, but bowed and dismissed himself.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

One month, one whole month that Ciel was loved and pampered by the silver-haired man. One month of bringing back the Phantomhive name to toy stores across England. One month filled with a number of ways of forgetting about Ael.

The sun shone bright, birds chirping as the air was pungent with the sweet smells of the Thistles and Orchids. Ciel watched the sweet summer scene, munching on his chocolate slice, Riff watching him.

"Ciel," Riff interrupted and the Earl looked at him. "I think it has been long enough. Maybe it's time you look at the world through two eyes." Riff came close, hand just so lightly on Ciel's shoulder.

The boy nodded and relaxed under his touch, at the ready with eyes closed. The butler undid the tie at the back, the thick cloth falling with grace to the ground.

Ciel opened his eyes and blinked, looking up at Riff with those missed innocent eyes. Riff sighed. His hand cradled his lover's cheek. "Still…just as beautiful." Ciel gave a half-smiled.

Riff pulled away, fingering the cloth. "What is it?" The boy asked.

Riff looked back and mulled over everything in his mind – ignoring the bickering voice in the back of it. He placed the cloth in his waist pocket, replacing it with something in his fist. "Ciel…there is no way I can take claim of you. I could never do what Ael did." An unconscious hand touched its owner's neck, where the necklace was just fading away. "But maybe…this could say enough." Riff opened his palm.

If Ciel had ever chosen a moment to be breathless, it was now. He gaped like a fish out of water; the Phantomhive signet ring, the tanzanite stone surrounded by a brilliant frame of silver. Another token not only of his parents, but of his entire family.

He took it with the most cautious hands, looking it over with an inspecting eye. There was no sense of imitation or any sign of it either; it _was_ the ring.

He looked up at Riff, finger curling in. Riff kneeled down, eyes ever waiting.

In a quick moment, Ciel hugged him close, eyes shedding tears into Riff's waistcoat. Riff gave a sigh, arms encircling his love back even tighter.

Ciel gave a content sigh, pulling away with courage. His inexperienced lips pushed against Riff's in a chance first kiss, one quickly reciprocated.

Maybe, when they parted, Ciel would tell him the truth. The truth, that if Riff looked hard enough, he'd find the key to his room under the door's floorboards.


End file.
